Change
by youfindyourselfinsomeoneelse
Summary: Familiarity is comforting, so what happens when that comfort is stripped away and Draco and Hermione are transported into an all too unpleasant past. HG/DM Rated T for language, scenes of a sexual nature, and violence.


**Disclaimer: **All rights to Harry Potter belong to J K Rowling, Bloomsbury and Warner Brothers. I'm simply playing in the big kids' playground.

**Credits: **This is in response to the adoption challenge. Thank you to the amazing _Dream-Like-State_ that came up with the challenge and to myself for finding the time to write it, and to all of you if you review.

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**Chapter One**

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For the last time I'll give myself to the enemy,

By letting their words just walk all over me.

Cause people they'll tear you apart,

If you are not like them.

And we are different.

Let the war begin.

'_Never Take us Alive' by Madina Lake_

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Change was something Hermione was incomparably fond of, and something Draco resented to the very tips of his blonde hair. Of course, with such a difference in opinion, the decision that was made for the both of them caused uproar in the worst kind.

They had been ordered to the office of Albus Dumbledore, Hermione in excited anticipation, hoping that perhaps he might have a job for her. This excitement, however, held a shred of fear within itself, for the members of the Order who were sent out on missions never seemed to return. So it was with apprehension that she walked to the office of the headmaster of the school she had attended only seven years beforehand.

Hermione paused rather abruptly, however, when she noticed one Draco Malfoy standing before the eagle that was the entrance to the office she had received invitation to only that morning. She was not to be mistaken, for the platinum blonde hair and expensive robes screamed the word 'Malfoy' like nothing else.

She gathered herself together, it had been years since she had seen the boy she so disliked, and in her eyes, he was still the same boy that she had sworn at that very last day at Hogwarts, but she could see, as she approached him, that Draco Malfoy was very much a _man_.

She looked to him, not meeting his eyes, returning the curt nod he gave her with one of her own. They stood in silence, as per their instructions. Hermione wasn't sure what Malfoy had been told to do, but she, herself, had been told to wait outside the eagle.

What for, she didn't know, but she had been told to do something, and as much as she tried to edge away from it, she was still the same girl who wanted to please everyone. She stood, as still as she could, her hands clasped together for the want of something to do with them; her bushy hair was somewhat under control, now that she had the time to do something with it.

Hermione worked in the ministry, in the Law Enforcement department. She loved her job, and loved the feeling that she made a difference in people's lives, for the _better_.

Draco didn't work. He lived off of his family's wealth, only doing such a _muggle_ thing as work if it was beneficial to him. He hadn't expected the correspondence he had received that morning, and almost brushed it off as a bad joke, until he had compared the handwriting on the letter with the handwriting on the letter he received from the same person after the end of term.

They matched, too perfectly for it to have been a forgery, and so he had made plans to depart the luxurious life he had led since Hogwarts, and return to the school he used to love. If only for the fact that it gave him the sense of power that he so desired, where he could lord it over every other student, and not be berated for such an act.

He almost resented his present life, having to kneel to kiss the Dark Lord's robes at every meeting, accepting the cruciatus curse without complaint, although his insides screamed for some relief. He truly hated his life, and so his lack of work was his only luxury, it gave him time to heal after the many rounds of pain he would have gone through on such evenings as the previous one.

He considered this an appropriate reason for his lack of work, and despised that he couldn't share the information. At more than one time he longed to shout and throw things against walls, to release all of his anger in one burst.

He couldn't, and he didn't.

He told everyone who asked that he loathed the idea of work, of acting so much like a muggle, and they believed him. The thought almost made him scoff, of course they would believe him, and he had made his views so clear about his feelings for muggles over the years, that no one would doubt his excuses.

Draco had climbed the many stairs to the office of Dumbledore, only remembering having been within it twice in his life, and he was twenty four years of age. He was intrigued, he had to admit, but it was with apprehension that he waited, and apprehension soon turned to resentment as he heard the girl behind him.

This disruption of his meeting with the headmaster angered him to no end, although he refused to admit it, it was just another thing that had to be made harder for him.

Draco was already in pain from his punishment the night before, and he didn't relish the thought having to put up with someone else, along with the already insufferable Albus and his strange way of doing things.

The footsteps were surely a woman's, for they were of a lightness that no man could achieve, and he was certain, as soon as the footsteps stuttered to a halt behind him, that the person who was to approach him was none other than Hermione Granger.

He could only imagine her as the girl who had stood up to him so often at school, the only one, apart from Potter and Weasley. Draco paired the names with a scowl even in his own mind.

Hermione had never been the type to tempt him away from his thoughts, but as she stood next to him he realised he was shocked by her appearance. He had never seen her looking so... grown up, if that was the correct way to describe her.

It was improper for him to stare, and so he looked away after giving her a nod, there was no reason to refrain from niceties.

He had imagined her to be the same as her seventeen year old self, but there was no mistaking the vast difference between her at the young and naïve age of seventeen, and her as she was then. He still suspected her of being the same as she always was, in personality at the least, as much the annoying know it all as she ever was.

He wasn't disappointed when they were met by their old headmaster, Hermione rushed forward at once.

She had been waiting for what seemed an hour in the awkward silence between her and the blonde man who stood beside her, but she knew it could only be a few minutes. Despite this, when the silver-bearded headmaster descended the staircase and stepped calmly from the eagle's embrace, it was with awed eagerness that she stepped forwards.

Although she was a part of the Order, Albus was rarely at meeting's lately, due to the amount of work he had to do outside of such commitments. This meant that she hadn't seen him in what must be a few years, and yet the same powerful force hit her, just as it had on that very first day at Hogwarts.

She unclasped her hands, somewhat nervously, as she greeted Professor Dumbledore, a small, slightly embarrassed smile on her face for her enthusiasm.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in that way she hated, and he smiled at her like he was about to ask her to do something indescribably stupid, knowing her luck as she did, he probably was.

Still, she followed him, without complaint, into the wings of the great bird that guarded Dumbledore's office, along with Malfoy, who seemed to limp a little behind them, although he hid it well. Hermione wasn't concerned for the health of her enemy, although she was curious, just a little. She knew better than to ask, of course, and she kept her mouth shut.

Hermione noted that Malfoy kept rubbing his arm, and she wrinkled her nose just a little, for if he pulled up his sleeve, she knew that she would see the image of the Dark Mark emblazoned upon his arm, the dark crimson of blood.

There had been an attack last night; it had been all over the papers, another Order member killed, along with two Auror's, and she had almost hyperventilated when she heard the description of one of them. Harry was an Auror, as was Ron, and although she felt nothing more than brotherly love for them, her heart still leapt whenever she thought one of them might be in danger.

What must have been a thoughtful sadness on her face soon turned to a wide eyed look of surprise when she saw what awaited them in the circular room of portraits. It was almost exactly like she remembered, in the background, however, the presence of one Severus Snape, and two cauldrons full of hot, bubbling liquid, distorted her memory just a little.

She sniffed, and reeled back in disgust at the scent that entered her nostrils, it was far from pleasant, and she turned her head from the potion that was obviously releasing such a stench. As soon as she was facing into the other direction however, her sense of smell perked up.

Hermione could smell such a wonderful scent that she walked towards the potion that lay across from the other, she closed her eyes, concentrating solely on inhaling the aroma that made her feel so… liberated.

Draco couldn't quite believe what his nose was telling him about the potions that lay before him. Each was obviously completely different; the acidic balance was absurdly out of balance, so much so that if they came into contact they would literally snap out of existence. One was so strongly acidic, and the other such a distinctive alkali, that he had trouble concentrating on one at a time, for each time he tried, the other seemed to overpower what he was centred on.

He almost missed his Godfather across the room, but when he caught his eye, he stood for a moment, just looking at him, not a shred of hatred upon his pale face. There had been, when he had discovered the job Severus held, spy for the Order of the Phoenix. He had shouted and thrown curses that he shouldn't have known at him, only to become more frustrated as each one he threw had not the desired effect.

Draco was envious of his Godfather, he had worked it out, and he longed to be able to keep the blood off of his hands, stay away from the torture that he had to take part in, almost daily. He hated it, and he hated the stupid mark that was upon his left forearm. As much as he tried to ignore it, he couldn't stop the irritation of having it there, burning constantly.

He gave a quick nod to Severus and averted his eyes quickly when he realised that his Godfather had noticed him rubbing the repulsive tattoo that made him feel ill whenever he set eyes on it.

No-one seemed to notice that nothing was being said, especially not Hermione, she was too much in awe of the simmering liquids in the cauldron's that were of great expense. It seemed that they stood in silence for minutes and minutes, but the quiet was interrupted by the clearing of a throat.

"Lemon drop?" it offered, to his disgust, and he shook his head in refusal, "No, thank you," Draco said, a strong sense of distaste flooding his words.

Hermione also replied with a no, but hers was paired with a small giggle that could only have been one of reminiscence. "No, thank you, sir," she said, her girlish laugh fading to a smile. Draco didn't look at her for more than a second, in the fear that someone might make assumptions.

"My dear Hermione, call me Albus," mused the voice, old, but full of an ancient wisdom that Draco couldn't begin to decipher. He could almost hear her nod, she was so happy, and he looked away, a sneer upon his face.

Hermione almost squealed when she was told to call the headmaster by his first name, but she refrained, of course, and instead just replied with a correction, and a question. "Albus, might I ask what we are her for?" She waited calmly, and patiently, but with no lack of expectation in her eyes.

Draco almost rolled his own at her clear want of an answer, and although he was curious, he didn't care to show it upon his person, unlike the brown haired woman beside him.

"I have a job for you both," Dumbledore wasted no time in telling them, his excitement clear in his voice. Draco almost shook his head at the ridiculousness of Dumbledore's reason to have him there, but again, he held back, clinging on to the control that longed to escape him.

Hermione was more than a little scared at what he had said, despite his obvious pride at what she assumed had been one of his rather strange ideas. Normally, such ideas were met with revered fear for what tasks would have to be pursued for such an idea to be put into action.

"You may want to sit down," said Albus, which only sought to install the fear within her more securely, although it made no difference to Draco, he would much rather hear whatever wretched news that was to come whilst standing, last ne need to draw his wand. He didn't seem to have a choice, however, as Dumbledore had gestured for them to sit in the chairs before his desk.

Hermione had remembered his desk as a tidy area, where there was a place for everything and everything was in its place, but now she glanced upon it, she couldn't see the rich green leather that covered its surface for all the parchment that was strewn across it. The sight made her concerned, and her face must have portrayed that, for she received a concerned look from the headmaster. Hermione gave him a smile and walked to sit in one of the cushioned armchairs in front of the desk, unfortunately at precisely the same time as Malfoy.

Draco cursed internally as he realised that Granger was heading to exactly the same spot as he was, and as much as he wanted to push past her and take the seat, much like a five year old would, he remembered his gentlemanly ways and stood back to let her pass. He sent her only a quirk of an eyebrow in recognition of her nod of thanks.

He barely noted the slight pinkness of her cheeks as he took the seat next to her, slouching in a leisurely way, hating the fact that it made the pain dissipate, just a little.

Hermione sat with her back perfectly straight, resenting the pink blush that had sprung to her cheeks. She hadn't expected to see Malfoy today of all days, and she certainly hadn't expected that he would make her feel like she was fourteen again, and blushing every time Viktor paid her a compliment.

"You both know of the situation the wizarding world is in, as you both live in the different sides of light and dark," started Dumbledore, all playfulness gone from his voice, his face a mask of seriousness.

Draco gazed at his feet at the words of the headmaster; he was ashamed of what he was, and to have it spelt out so plainly in front of one of his childhood enemies brought him great embarrassment, although no redness overcame his cheeks, he was a master at disguising his emotions.

Hermione tried to refrain from glancing at the man beside her, but couldn't quite seem to control the movement of her head. She looked at him for a moment before letting her gaze return to the headmaster.

It was clear that Albus was waiting for confirmation to continue after such a blunt exploitation of loyalty. Hermione was quite obviously anxious to hear the remainder of what was to be said and she gave a brisk nod, which was lazily followed with a slight inclination of Draco's head.

"It has become clear to me that if we continue as we are in the hope of defeating the side of darkness in favour of light, then our fight shall not last much longer," said Dumbledore, and the pressure of what he was saying was beginning to build the tension in the room.

Albus gave a slight nod to Draco, as if offering a mark of respect for his decision to linger on the dark side when they were the cause of nothing but death and destruction.

Hermione almost scoffed, if it wasn't for the fact that she remembered her manners then she would have. Draco, as different as he was then to how he had been at school, was no more deserving of respect then than he had been at the immature age of sixteen.

Draco almost sneered in superiority as Dumbledore nodded towards him. Of course he deserved the respect he gained from those above him. Not many could so easily keep a position so close to the Dark Lord and act the same way they always had, but he managed it, with feigned ease.

Albus hadn't missed the reactions of the young adults that used to be his students, as carefully concealed as they were. Each wore slight expressions from either end of the spectrum of emotions, each in favour of their own opinion. He almost chuckled at the mundane quality of it all, but the matter was a serious one, and a solution had to be agreed upon.

"I have dismissed ideas as readily as they have arrived; however, I believe that one may hold some influence upon us. It would cause the downfall of the worlds most dangerous and cunning wizard; bring peace upon the wizarding world. If that is not what you seek, then I am sorry to have wasted your time." It was there that he paused, it was clear that not one person in that room, so rich with the wealth of possessions that were more antiques than trinkets, would move a single muscle.

Hermione's heart was beating loudly against the confines of her ribcage, and she yearned for it to reduce the thud it made, fearful that her companions would hear it, and automatically deem her unsuitable for something of such importance. She was being stupid, of course, and her stupidity did not end at the wish for a quieter heart, it extended to the want to run from the situation around her, although it was impossible for her to even make such an insignificant movement as to blink, let alone force her legs to move as quickly as to run.

Draco's face was devoid of his smirk, his sneer absent. He had expected nothing to come of his meeting with the aged headmaster, but it was not as he had thought. It seemed that there may be a solution to this chaos that surrounded them, and that he might play a significant part in it, much like a knight in a chess game. He knew he was undeserving of such a post, but he hoped that worth and self value would not play a part in the selection process.

The teenagers, or so he still thought of them, seemed to be taking this with as much seriousness as was required. Severus had spent the last year experimenting with the potions that would make such a place successful, and he, being as skilled as he was - had procured the correct method for ensuring everything went without incident.

"Would your silence signify a preference to be involved in such an idea?" prompted Dumbledore, his bushy grey eyebrows knitting together.

To Hermione's surprise, Draco was the first to answer, she had thought him a wimp, someone who chose to follow the orders of another in want of an easy life, and yet, the way he spoke without so much as a tremor of fear or apprehension impressed her. She would never have admitted it, but she felt a spark of respect within her. She was frightened, so much so that she thought her voice would wobble if she uttered even a single word, and yet, her courage was outstanding. If Draco could risk his life for the side of light, when he was not in favour of it, then Hermione could, and with as much of a lack of fear as Draco seemed to possess.

Draco wasn't afraid of pain, nor was he afraid of defying his master, if it meant being rid of him he was willing to give up everything, if it meant that he received his greatest desire in return. He wished for an easy life, and he had done from the moment he had joined what he had considered the elite of wizarding groups.

He spoke with conviction, eager to join in the fight against the monster he had to serve, but not keen to show his enthusiasm. "My silence signifies nothing so trivial; it expresses my desire to be a part of this," he paused, almost glaring with the seriousness of which he spoke. "I want this finished," he muttered, the edge still to his voice, but a vulnerable edge, something he never let anyone see, something he had just revealed to his godfather, a brilliant, yet ancient man of considerable talent, and the girl he had called a mudblood.

It was there that Hermione interjected. "I too, want this done with, Albus. We can continue to fight, if we wish to continue to fall," she stated, and it was without a single doubt that every person in the room believed her.

Albus nodded once, "Then it is from here that our path lies both clear and unclear. I need your word that you will agree to everything I ask of you, from here on in," He said, his voice grave, his eyes even more so.

"You have my word," Came two voices, alike in tone, octaves apart in pitch. The silver and brown eyes of the two youths that were once enemies connected across the space between their chairs, and an unspoken agreement was forged between them. This plan was not about them, it was for the greater good, the good of the world, and it was up to them to follow through, no matter what was to ensue.

Albus' face was a picture of pride at his former students' maturity.

Hermione would have glowed, had it not been for the fact that she might be sacrificing her friends, her life for this experiment that could go disastrously wrong, or give her and her family the normal life she had always desired. It was a risk that she was willing to take, as much as she doubted herself, and wished that someone else had been chosen to be a candidate for this ominous plan that might prove to take her life.

Draco had never cared much for the approval of professor's. Ever the slimy, cunning Slytherin, he never sought such frivolous things as praise from his elders, and he never felt any inclination to. Despite this, there was something foreign beginning to cloud the back of his mind, something he didn't recognise. It was pride; pride in himself, for a reason different to the one he had been living under from the day he was born.

He wanted this opportunity, much more than he would ever admit to anyone but himself, and it was clear that he was going to gain it, in much the way that he gained the things he desired. Honour was at the top of his list, as much as he thought that Albus Dumbledore was an old fool who had turned senile in his old age, he was honoured to have been chosen for something that the headmaster would only have offered to those that he trusted, and honoured to be counted amongst those select few.

"Then I trust that you have noticed the potions that seem to be revelling in our seriousness?" Asked Dumbledore, his voice light, in comparison to the obvious darkness of their conversation.

At once, every head in the room turned to the cauldrons that were filled with liquids as different as the moon and the sun, but with such a noticeable connection that every breath was drawn, and the silence was deafening.

The substances bubbled merrily, each a shimmering mass of metallic glimmer. One was the colour of molten gold, the other of tarnished steel.

They reminded Hermione of things that she never thought would have been considered in the same area of her mind. The gold was almost the exact colour of Harry's polyjuice, portraying almost exactly the reason whilst he was known as the chosen one, the golden boy. The tarnished steel was precisely the shade of Draco Malfoy's eyes, and even as she took a sharp glance at them, as if to prove her theory, they flashed towards her, showing her the same glimmer that danced across the surface of that watery substance that enticed her so.

It was odd to her that it was the golden potion that smelled the worst to her. The one that she associated with goodness gave off such a stench that she held her breath, so as not to catch a waft of it. The other, the thing that symbolised Draco Malfoy, the personification of darkness, that smelt so unnaturally delicious that she longed to walk towards it and inhale the aroma, wrap herself in it, lose herself in the scent that was so illegally desirable.

"Well?"

The voice that came from the headmaster was requesting an answer, and wavering on the edge of impatience.

Hermione hastened to answer; it was in her distraction that she had forgotten herself, along with the question that had been issued to them. "Of course, sir, I must say, I'm rather enamoured with this particular potion," she said, gesturing helplessly to the cauldron which held the slippery silver substance, seemingly unable to stop herself from speaking. She felt the rush of blood to her cheeks and looked to the ground, avoiding the malicious smirks that had haunted her during her school days.

To her surprise, it was only Snape that was internally laughing at her. Although she had expected to meet the sly upturn of Draco's lips as she had raised her head, it was a smile that she saw, as opposed to his signature smirk.

"I too, feel a certain preference towards a potion, although my choice differs from Miss Granger's," stated Draco, his voice polite, but his amusement obvious.

Draco could identify with Hermione, to his own amazement. The silvery potion – the one that reminded him of his fathers' cane with the head of a serpent that gazed at him with expectation that only his father possessed – smelt of acid, the heavy, repulsively acrid scent of burning flesh. He shivered whenever the scent dared to float towards him, and stopped the compulsive action of gas exchange within him for a few seconds whilst he waited and watched as the steel coloured haze retreated from him.

The molten gold of the other potion entranced him, drew him towards its impossible depths. It symbolised the quick gold of the snitch, whizzing forwards, its wings brushing tantalisingly against the pale skin of his hands. He could almost feel the soft flapping motion caressing his skin and he yearned to dive forwards and grab hold of it with both hands. He wanted it to envelop him, surround him and care for him; it was another sudden desire that had denounced every one of his expectations.

Severus' smirk slipped from his face, his brow wrinkled. Every moment that passed only caused new elements of surprise to spring up within him. First, it had been the unexpected maturity of the 'children' that he had taught all those years ago, and then next, the strange connection they seemed to share, and this - these feelings that seemed to overcome them as a result of the potions that he had brewed, with no reaction to either one. Albus had felt nothing towards them; they were just resultants of an experiment to create something that might offer a solution to their problem.

"I had hoped that this would be the case," said Albus, more to himself than anyone else that was present, "Each potion does the same thing, but in different circumstances," he explained, peaking both Draco and Hermione's curiosity.

They waited with clear apprehension on their faces, their desire to learn the information that had only partially been revealed to them.

"Each potion enables time travel."

The statement uttered by the headmaster caused universal silence. Not one person dared to speak, nor did they attempt to breathe. Time travel was taboo in the wizarding world, it was a point that no one discussed, in fear of elevating into the realms of unknown possibilities and problems that were too advanced for any wizard in existence to face. The only exception to this rule was the time turner, an unusual device that Hermione had had personal experience with.

It was often thought that the only experiments performed involving time travel happened deep in the department of mysteries, but here was proof before them that capabilities of teachers exceeded the required knowledge of their subject.

"Will it work?" Asked Draco, who couldn't resist the desire to know if something deemed impossible would actually destroy the thing that had caused every problem of the age.

"The risk we face is not in the abilities of the potion, but in the abilities of yourselves," Albus stated, his words calm, but with a hidden edge, as if he was berating Draco for his doubt in the abilities of the potions master.

"You are asking us to go back and kill him before he matures," said Draco, his voice matter-of-fact.

Hermione's first thought was to reject the idea. Killing was not in her nature, and it never would be. She wanted to be a good person, she _was _a good person, and good people didn't commit murder.

When she thought further into it, she found herself actually considering the idea. The benefits definitely outweighed the disadvantages, all those lives she could save by taking only one life, and she wouldn't even have to do it, she would just watch. Hermione thought that Draco wouldn't find it difficult to administer the killing curse, considering the fact that he had most likely done it a million times before, in service of the man they plotted to kill.

Draco thought that it was the obvious solution, the way to end the chaos that the wizarding world lived in every day. He didn't think he would have a problem, any issue with committing one more murder. With all the spite and anger he felt towards the 'man', he thought it would be easy, that there would be no conflict in his mind.

"No," the Headmaster's voice was harsh, and berated each of them in their personal thoughts, "We are good people, and we will _not _stoop to the level of a murderer. What I am asking of you is not quite so easy, and not quite so quick."

Severus took a breath in, the likelihood was that the teenagers would groan and stamp their feet, dreading what was to come, and wishing that they didn't have such responsibility. He had seen it so many times before, in more frivolous circumstances, certainly, but this didn't edit the reactions.

"Then sir, Albus, may I ask, what _are_ you asking of us?" enquired Hermione, her voice small and polite.

"My plan is of some complexity, however, I have no doubt that you will both understand with perfect clarity. My wish is for you both to go back in time using the potions prepared by Severus," he gestured with a wrinkled hand to the sallow potions master standing half concealed by shadows. "You are to adopt a young Tom Riddle from the orphanage he dwelled at in his childhood. The timing for this is exceedingly important. Tom was a very troublesome child, after he discovered that he could bend things to his will, and convince snakes to do his bidding, he used those skills to his own advantage, but to the great disadvantage of others. You are to adopt him before he developed these skills, when he is younger than five years old. From the age of six he had begun causing strange incidents around the place of his residence, harming the other children that shunned him from their friendship groups and gaining his revenge by removing things they loved. I, myself, have had experience with the thieving nature of Tom Riddle," stated Albus, causing widespread silence around the room, and expressions of shock and curiosity blossomed on the two pale faces that sat in stunned awe before the old mahogany desk.

"_Adopt_ him?" scoffed Draco, as if he believed this to be some form of joke. It was usual that he was asked to commit murder, but to _adopt _the child that would become a murderer was delving into insanity in his own opinion.

"Yes, adopt him, and raise him as a child that we would be proud to have as a member of society. It is your job to bring him up as a polite, well mannered boy, who has no temptations to join the side that we have wasted so much time fighting against," clarified Albus.

Hermione couldn't help but admire her old headmaster. As worried as she was about the plan that he had devised, she couldn't control the awe she thought of him with. Apprehension didn't cover how she felt, but her thoughts wrapped around the fact that Albus Dumbledore was brilliant.

"There is one catch to this arrangement," said Albus, peering at Hermione and Draco over his half moon spectacles, "You shall have to be married for this plan to work."

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**Author's Notes: **This took a while to write, but I am hoping that you will all enjoy it very much. You guys know by now that I never update when I say I'm going to, because I'm too impatient to get a chapter up, and then I don't start the new one for a couple weeks, and then it takes too long for me to write a decent chapter. So, don't despair, it will be updated, just slowly..

So, I hope you will enjoy this new thing I'm trying, check out the song the lyrics are from, it's AWESOME. Please review? I need some criticism, and I always write back!


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